Destination! |
Time and distance-the stuff what turns hardship into
humor. Of course, depending upon the
nature of the hardship, the required amount of time and distance can be
extremely variable. Traveling to foreign
lands is always an adventure of obstacles and remaining malleable is
essential. One’s malleability depends
very much on time tables, so I consider myself fortunate to be traveling to a
country with regular intervals of public transportation opportunities and kind
people versed well enough in my native tongue to help out a stranger standing
in the middle of a street with an immensely quizzical countenance.
The journey began as all journeys out of Red Lodge, Montana
tend to: early! We awoke at 2:30 a.m. to arrive at the
airport by 4:15 so I could check in and wait.
Funny how traveling can make you reference war phrases: extreme periods of boredom punctuated with
moments of terror. Of course, terror is
a dramatic term in reference to travel; rather one’s time is punctuated by
moments of, “MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!” There is
no quick flight out of Montana and the shortest route I could find to Denmark
was Billings to Denver to D.C. to Copenhagen.
In Denver I had a brief three-hour layover and then another 40 minutes
waiting for mechanics to repair an instrument in the cockpit, which would not
have been any great burden except that the transfer in D.C. was only one hour,
now down to 30 minutes upon our arrival and I was in row 34.
Park where Guldagergaard Studios are nestled |
What was this new hell I worked into?
At the fishing port in Skaelskor |
Imagine a wooden box about ½” too small for your rump. You must get lodged into it because you are
about to take off and soar 37000 feet into the air, so you sit on your hip and
are grateful you are in the front row of the economy class so you can extend
your legs decreasing your rump by a few centimeters. To make matters more interesting we’re going
to build the control panel for the overhead light, stewardess call button,
media center on the inside wall of the box right where your femur meets your
pelvis. Then, to add tension and drama
akin to the plight of Tantalus, we will place you next to business class where
more than one dozen empty and, more importantly, larger seats sit empty. However, you will be unable to upgrade
because such transactions need to take place at check-in rather than in
flight. We will give you a free bottle
of red wine with your dinner because, after all, we are a “civilized”
airline. The implication being that
American airlines are too wrapped up in rigid moralization to give away
alcohol, but they were only kidding. So
drink some wine and we will try to overlook the fact that your rump will be
pressing the call stewardess button for the next 7.5 hours.
Akio Figurehead on front of Gallery at GGG |
I thought perhaps an in-flight movie would distract me from
my uncomfortable position, but no.
Because I was in the first row there was no media screen in the back
seat in front of me. F. Scott Fitzgerald
it was! Re-reading The Great Gatsby is a
little difficult when one’s mind is traveling from hip to the 1920s, but I did
my best. Somehow my powers of
observation kicked in and I learned my screen was on an arm below my seat, but
because of my wedged predicament I had to use the screen of the neighboring
seat, which was blissfully empty. For
the next two hours I did a sort of yoga pose with the lower half of my body
twisted to the aisle and my upper half twisted inward to lose myself in Steve Carrel’s
crazy world, only occasionally wondering if I would ever be able to walk
upright again.
Sculpture outside the Studio |
The one very intriguing feature on the flight was the
cameras mounted to the bottom of the plane giving everyone a unique view of the
runway and the land below us as we flew.
Passengers are also given an update map and time schedule of our progress
across the Atlantic. I think this was a
blessing, because it allowed me to see exactly how much longer I had to
endure. “Only 4 more hours. Only 3 more hours. OK, I can do this!” Somehow, I managed to
catch a little nap before they turned on the lights in the cabin and literally
tossed a bag of yogurt and a ham sandwich in my lap. I saved it for later.
When we finally landed in Copenhagen you cannot imagine how
fast I stood up out of my seat! Quicker
than lightening his coursers they flew!
But…
“We’re very sorry ladies and gentlemen, it seems the gangway
will not move but we are working to rectify the problem as quickly as we can.”
15 minutes later
“Ladies and gentlemen, sometimes life does not work out as
we would like it to. Now we are also having
trouble getting the front cockpit door to open. “
15 minutes later
Boat that reminded me how I felt trapped on the plane! |
“Ladies and gentlemen, we appreciate your patience,” babies
are crying, even-tempered Danes are rolling their eyes, I’m thinking there is
no way I’m getting back in that seat, “We are retrieving a moving staircase for
the aft door, it should be only a few more moments.”
15 minutes later
“Ladies and gentlemen will you please all turn and exit
through the rear of the cabin area. We
thank you for flying Scandinavian Airlines.”
As seen in the library room at the Residence |
Down a shaking, windy staircase, two-by-two we go onto a
very crowded bus. Moving through customs
was blissfully simple and my luggage made it.
Waiting on a plane for 40 minutes after your landing means your bags are
immediately available upon your arrival at the baggage carousel. Now!
Lashing my carry on to my newly purchased gigantic bag, putting my coat,
scarf and gloves on I head to the train counter. Success!
Ticket purchased for a direct train ride from Kalstrup airport to Slagelse,
heading to platform #2 I await in the cool Danish air for the last leg of my
journey. The train pulls up, I get on
and it seems slow, but actually it was probably rather fast that I notice there
are no English words and no notice that the train I am on is headed to Slagelse. My first encounter with the Danish people was
a gentleman who must have read my face, “Are you going to Central Station?”
Skaelskor, Denmark |
“I don’t know? I want
to get to Skaelskor,” and I show him my ticket.
He tells me I need to get off at Central Station and head to
the main platform. He says Skaelskor is
in the south and I am currently heading north.
OK! I thought my paperwork said
it was a direct route and the nice lady behind the glass said to go to Platform
2, but okay. At Central Station I am
directed to Platform 6, but in the signage there I do not see the name Slagelse
or Skaelskor anywhere. I do see lots of
people in bright orange vests with navy blue uniforms beneath and find I am at
last on the right train. It is a train
which requires mustering the strength to haul my luggage up three steps while
hundreds of other travelers patiently wait.
Once I’m settled at a table I finally see an LED sign on the
car with our stops and the word SLAGLESE finally shows itself. Now I know how long I have and how much time
I will need to prep my luggage for the move down the steps. The countryside is lovely as the sun comes
up, which is not until 9 a.m. Lush green
hillsides and houses out of fairy tales with giant windmills—just lovely really. As I ride, I’m trying to remind myself to
enjoy this scenery, but my mind keeps going back to the timetable. I’m not at my final destination yet, so my
traveling wits can’t completely settle in to the experience. Upon my arrival at Slagelse, I manage to go
up only one elevator unnecessarily before I get to the bus station, but I am
more grateful there are elevators and that I don’t have to drag my luggage up
and down stairs. Somehow the elevators
smell slightly of urinals, but some things one simply must overlook. Walking to the bus stop, I quickly find route
470R as predicted on my papers. A short
30 minutes later the bus pulls up and on I get and off I go. Almost there.
Resident Housing, Side Entrance |
We drive through small villages that can only be described
as quaint. Actually, I’m pretty sure
these villages are the reason the word quaint evolved. Before I know it we are at Skaelskor and the
bus stops at the edge of town. In my
excitement, I fail to remember that I was to wait until we arrived at the bus
station in Skaelskor and I get off only to realize, as the bus pulls away, I’ve
gotten off too soon. So I begin the walk
into town, which is fairly easy, because every road is paralleled by a bike
path so the going is easy if not certain.
I managed to eventually find my way to Guldagergaard thanks to two kind
Danes, Rita first then Dennis. Both said
they had only basic English when asked, but upon seeing my dilemma they did not
simply tell me the way, each one said, “Just follow me.” And I did, and so here I am sitting in a damp
and windy world of fairy tales and Karin Blixen, drinking hot Kaffe and meeting
new friends. Last night we had a
wonderful vegetable soup prepared by Czarina Irina and Brazilian Chicken and
Rice cooked by Luciana finished off with chocolate cake and the promise of more
cakes to come. My room is warm and cozy
and the house creaks with the wind at night in the most beautiful way. The studio looks out over the sculpture park,
I have local red and yellow earthenware waiting to be molded and now we are
about to head off around town and find all the grocery stores as well as the
place of dreams and imaginations: the
junk shop!
Artists' Studio |
Raised Garden Bed outside the fish monger's store. |
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Lunch included a fish cake purchased at the monger by the wharf! |